


Light the Night (Call Me Maybe)

by flonkertons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flonkertons/pseuds/flonkertons
Summary: Five times Clarke called Bellamy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is as close to fluff as someone who can't even write fluff without having to cover my face can get.

**december 2016.**

Clarke felt a little bad about it because it was 2 AM and anyone in their right mind would be sleeping and not stranded at a party because their girlfriend had _left them there_ surrounded by said girlfriend's (or ex girlfriend, as of 1:43 AM) friends who were either passed out or tossing her snide looks. But the feeling bad thing was really overridden by how much she wanted to get out of there and how angry she was at Lexa, so when she found Bellamy's name at the top of her favorites, she hadn't thought twice about it and somehow gotten through on the third ring.

His voice was groggy. She ignored the familiar fluttering she always experienced at the sound of his voice. "Clarke?"

"Bellamy. Hi." She felt awkward now, but pushed through it. "How are you?"

"It's... 2:04 AM," he replied. "Are you okay? What's going on? Where are you?"

She winced. "I'm sorry for waking you, I just -- sorry, I'm at this house and I need a ride and I didn't think about it, I just hoped maybe you'd help me out and it's okay, I can just try and get an Uber --"

"You get nauseous in the backseat."

"That hasn't happened in a while, so I've probably gotten over that."

"Clarke," he said, voice clearer now. "Text me the address and I'll come get you."

"Okay," she said, relieved.

\---

**(interlude.)**

She met Bellamy during her grad school orientation. He was two years into his doctoral program and was president of the History Graduate Student Association, which meant he was the one leading the orientation meeting for the program. Clarke remembered he was funny and excited about meeting them all (and even sounded sincere about it), but she also remembered thinking he was cute, with his curly hair and crooked grin and freckles splashed on his cheeks.

And then she had an oral history class with him and decided to take back that thought because there was no way she could _ever_ think he was _cute_ when he was just so completely _wrong_ about everything. He found fault in every book they read and was critical of the theory they studied, except she couldn't fathom how he could when she knew _he_ knew it was important to their work. It wasn't until their oral history project that she understood that he wasn't dismissing theory, but approaching it in his own way. It was during their project that they became friends-of-sorts because you could only become friends-of-sorts after spending late nights at the library transcribing eight-hour interviews. He was funny, and sharp, _smart_ , and cute, and maybe she had a crush on him sometimes (like when he wore his glasses) (and when he smiled) (and when he argued with her about the way she was structuring her historiography), but that was two years ago and nothing had happened, except that they had become best friends while she crashed and burned in and out of two disastrous relationships.

He was still funny and sharp and smart and cute and they were still best friends

***

**(return.)**

Bellamy arrived at 2:16 AM, which she only knew because she had been studiously staring at her phone in her attempts to ignore Lexa's friends. He didn't so much as knock as he just walked into the house, scanning the living room until he spotted her sitting on the couch. He was in his navy blue coat, the one she loved the most on him.

"Hi," she said, as he came closer. "Sorry for making you do this."

"You didn't make me do anything. What's the story here?" Up close, she noticed his messy curls, the glasses that kept falling down on his nose, and the obvious signs that he had been sleeping.

"I'll tell you in the car," she answered a little furtively, away from the curious glances of two of Lexa's friends -- she couldn't remember their names, but did recall that they had ignored her most of the night. Clarke got up and promptly stumbled into Bellamy, hissing a little as she put weight on her ankle.

He caught her before she fell, an arm under her arm, a hand on her shoulder. Immediately, he was concerned, his brow furrowing as he examined her, as if their sudden proximity wasn't bothering him like it _definitely_ was for her. Clarke tried to pull herself out of his hold, but that only made him adjust his arms so they were properly holding her up. She flushed. Hadn't she _just_ broken up with Lexa -- or Lexa had broken up with her? What was the call when your girlfriend had told you that she was the one who had revoked the grant proposal from the running and then just left you alone at a house full of people that, at best, merely tolerated her? Was there a Buzzfeed quiz for that? -- just under an hour ago and here she was, blushing because she was inches away from Bellamy's biceps. In all fairness, they were _really_ nice biceps.

"I sprained my ankle a little bit," she admitted.

" _How_? What the hell are these people doing if they aren't -- no, this isn't important. Let's go." And then he let go of her, making sure she was steady, before kneeling down, his back in front of her.

"What are you doing?"

"Get on."

"What?"

He shrugged a shoulder, or what looked like shrugging if viewed from the back. "I don't think you should walk on that ankle and it's a little icy outside. Come on."

"I'm not -- I don't want a piggyback ride!"

"It's icy outside!"

"I can walk! I told you, it's just a little bit of a sprain."

"You almost fell over," he pointed out skeptically, but he had turned to face her, at least.

"I've been sitting for a while, I just wasn't used to standing up that quickly." He rolled his eyes, so she did the same.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm _fine_."

"Lean on me, at least." She was fine with that. He was warm and she had on a skirt that had seemed like a good idea at the time, but was clearly a terrible one in retrospect. If she accidentally leaned in closer, it wasn't her fault. He really was very warm.

When they were both inside his car, Bellamy turned to her and fixed her with a stern look.

She sighed. "Lexa and I got into a fight. And then I found out she was the one who torpedoed my grant application so I got even _more_ furious, obviously, which only made things worse, and it was this long thing where we were just shouting at each other, and her friends weren't even trying to pretend that they weren't listening, and you know what, I hate her friends, and I hate her, and _stop looking at me like that_ ," Clarke finished, crossing her arms. Bellamy had no expression on his face, which was worse than him having an expression on his face. She knew that he had hated Lexa and the blank look on his face just made her feel worse. She wanted him to commiserate with her, not offer sympathy.

"This is my normal face, Clarke," he said, as he started the car.

"No, that's your I'm withholding my opinion face and I really would like your opinion now."

"You know my opinion."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to repeat it."

"That's not what you said last time."

"That was different. Now we're over and I really want to hear about how you hate her." Otherwise, she'd have to wake up Raven or Monty and she didn't want to do that.

He snorted.

"How about I just take you home and then if you still want to hear it, I'll tell you tomorrow?"

She grumbled but assented, wincing when she shifted a little in her seat and hoping Bellamy didn't notice. He did, as evidenced by his sigh.

"I'm fine," she said before he could say anything else. "I know how to deal with a sprained ankle."

"What if I hadn't answered your call?"

"Impossible. You always answer your phone."

"That's why it's a what if question."

"I would've called an Uber, probably. Or someone else. I have other friends besides you, Bellamy."

"You should've called them instead of waking me up then."

"I'm – I'm sorry," Clarke said, feeling the wave of guilt that she had suppressed. Of course she should've requested an Uber instead, or made one of Lexa's friends drop her off, or just not – bother Bellamy this late...

"No," Bellamy sighed, pulling to a stop as the red light shone in their faces. "I'm glad you called me. I would've been upset if you were stranded with a broken ankle and you didn't call me."

"It's a _sprained_ ankle," she mumbled. "Sorry I woke you up though."

"I wasn't sleeping well anyways," he said, but she wasn't sure if she believed it. He gave her a lopsided grin, reaching over to nudge her arm. She smiled back, tentative at first, until it became easy and comfortable.

"I'll bring you lunch during your office hours tomorrow," she promised. He rolled his eyes, but quickly turned back to the road as the light switched.

"Well, if you insist."

***

**february 2017.**

It took five rings for Bellamy to answer and when he did, he sounded _terrible_.

"Hi," he croaked miserably. Clarke suppressed a laugh.

"I just got done with the meeting," she said. "And everyone really missed you." So had she, but he probably knew that already. She had already sent him five texts attesting to that statement.

"What do you want?"

"Why do you assume we want something?"

"You're using that tone."

"There's no tone." She coughed to clear the tone she hadn't realized she had slipped into. "I mean, what tone?"

"Clarke—" He sneezed twice and it made her wince.

"That's it," she interrupted, already heading to the bus stop. "I'm coming over."

"You're busy. I'm sick. Contagious."

"Never too busy for you! And I'll cover my face," she said dryly. "I'll be there in twenty, don't die before then!"

The only response she heard before she ended the call was a weak protest.

\---

"Hi, I'm here!" Clarke called out as she let the door close behind her. Bellamy lived alone, ever since Miller had moved out to move in with his boyfriend, Bryan, which meant that he was suffering in silence, as he was wont to do when he was sick. He hadn't answered, but she assumed he was in his room. "Hey," she said with a slight frown as she took in the sight of Bellamy surrounded by blankets, with only his hair peeking out from under them.

She dropped her bag on the floor and immediately sat on his bed, pulling back one blanket, then two, then three until she saw his face, which looked as miserable as he undoubtedly felt. "Hey there."

He blinked sleepily at her and she had to bite back a smile. "Clarke?"

"You are really sick. Did you eat anything today?"

"Had a little bit earlier," he mumbled, turning his head towards the warmth of his pillow. "Too tired to get up now."

She began pulling the blankets back up, smoothing them down so they covered him properly. His breathing seemed to steady into sleep after a few minutes and Clarke sat there for a few more minutes brushing back the hair from his forehead. Even sick, and pale, and sweaty, Bellamy had a peaceful look about him, one that he rarely ever achieved when he was awake.

Slowly extricating herself from the arm that he had thrown over her legs, she tiptoed out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. She ordered some soup, cleaned his kitchen, and made some tea, wishing she had some honey as well. But he didn't, and it didn't really matter too much, so she went back to his room, set the cup down, and gently woke him up. He blinked at her again, but seemed to remember that she had arrived earlier, and smiled, pulling himself into a sitting position. His hair was a mess, and his clothes were rumpled, but he didn't notice, or care, as he ran a hand through his hair and yawned.

"I feel like shit," he said, coughing at the end.

"That's what happens when you get sick."

"It's my undergrads' fault. They don't know how to cough into their elbow."

"Isn't that what you're supposed to teach them? Twentieth century US history and also how to not get sick?"

"That was supposed to be next week. What are you doing here, though? I thought you had a — date."

She gestured to the tea on the table next to him. "Bringing you tea. And it's fine," here, she waved a hand, "I told Lexa something came up."

Bellamy stiffened and she regretted mentioning Lexa's name — she still remembered the fight they had had when he found out they had gotten back together, even though they had eventually apologized to each other about it. She had long given up on ever getting Bellamy to understand her choice, but it was always just easier to never mention _names_ with either of them.

"I don't want you to cancel stuff because I'm sick," he said, mostly into the cup.

"I didn't," (although she had), "It was some poetry night at the coffee shop and I didn't really want to go. This is really a favor for me."

He gave her a look, but didn't press further. The silence allowed her the opportunity to sit on the other end of the bed and cut him off before he tried to complain. "We had an idea at the meeting tonight."

"That sounds like trouble."

"You haven't even heard it."

"Oh, sorry. Please continue."

"Thank you. Anyways, we were _thinking_ about that trip to the Peverell Classics Collection and while we're really excited for it, we thought maybe —"

"You want to go somewhere else," he finished wearily. She grinned guiltily at him.

"It's not that we don't want to go there! I mean, it's one of the best archives in the world, but there's this new exhibit opening at the Thornton Museum downtown and Harper's cousin is one of the curators and can get us in so we thought maybe we'd switch the dates around a bit and go see this exhibit instead…"

He sighed, but it was definitely an affected one, rather than an actually aggrieved one. "You thought of everything already, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah, we can change it." She beamed at him. "You know you could've just called a vote with the rest of the council instead."

"Yeah, but then I would be deceiving you and I don't want to do that."

"Thanks." Bellamy took another sip from the tea and sighed again. "I was really looking forward to going to the PCC though."

"That's why…" Clarke drew out the word, "I was also thinking we can just go by ourselves sometime!"

"You don't have to do that."

"I'm not doing anything, I want to go."

Skeptically: "Really?"

"It _is_ one of the best archives in the world," she reiterated, "And even if it wasn't, you want to go, so I think it would be fun. Plus, I like when you get really excited about something and you start waving your hands around and end up almost accidentally hitting someone."

Bellamy tilted his head at her and gave her a strange look before snapping out of it and finishing off his tea. She swore he smiled into his cup. "I don't do that," he finally said.

"You _so_ do."

***

**april 2017.**

She wanted the record to reflect that the idea really originated with Monty. He had been the one who suggested they all go out to cheer Clarke up (even though she had _told_ them for the fifth time that she really was fine, that breaking up with Lexa was the right thing to do, and _no_ , she wasn't just saying that), so it wasn't _her_ fault that she, Jasper, and Monty were stuck in a cell at the city jail. It was _Monty's_. Just because she might've accidentally been the one who started the fight in the bar didn't mean that she was the one responsible, technically.

Her friends didn't see it that way.

"I _wasn't_ drunk!" Clarke hissed, glaring at him. "I was perfectly capable of making my own decisions when that all started."

"By _that all started_ , you mean when you punched Lexa's friend."

"If you were to describe it, yes."

"Clarke!"

She crossed her arms defiantly at Monty – and Jasper, but he was dozing on the floor so he didn't really count. "He was saying all this shit about Bellamy, about how he was a waste of the money he was spending to go to school, as if he wasn't _paying for it on his own_ , and how he only knew how to solve things through his fists, which I guess is pretty ironic after I hit him…" She mused, only snapping out of it when she heard Monty sigh. "He deserved it, okay?"

"Okay. I don't disagree. I don't get their problem with Bellamy, though. He's met them like twice."

Clarke shifted uncomfortably. While that was true, she had a feeling – no, she _knew_ – that the guy had to have picked it up somewhere, or rather, from some _one_  and the first thing she was going to do once she got out of here was to yell at her. "It's probably because of Lexa."

"That'd do it." Monty gave her a look and Clarke frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing," Monty said quickly. "So what now?"

She groaned, letting her head knock back against the wall. "I'll call Bellamy."

\---

Bellamy answered on the sixth ring and he sounded annoyed.

"Clarke?"

"Hi!" She lowered her voice. It was better not to sound excited about being in jail. "I have a problem."

There was some shifting on the other end. "What happened?"

"It's a long story. But uh, I guess the short story is… I'm in jail." The last part was delivered in a quick breath and she wasn't sure he had heard her because he didn't say anything for what felt like a long time.

"You're _where_?"

"Jail. The one in town. Well, the station, I mean. It's a long story."

He sighed and she imagined that he had just run a hand through his hair and cursed inwardly. It was around eleven now, probably. He had been getting ready for bed. She had never been more glad that he always answered his phone.

"I'm on my way. _Don't go anywhere_."

"Where would I go?"

The line dropped dead and she couldn't help but laugh.

\---

Clarke saw him before he saw her. It was nothing special (save for the part where she was in a jail), but when he burst through those doors, frantically searching for a police officer who would pay attention to him, worry etched on his face, hair messy, and eyes frantic, she realized something she should've realized months, or maybe years, before.

She was in love with Bellamy.

There was nothing spectacular about the realization, except that she could hear her heart beating, and she felt a little lightheaded, but it had happened without fanfare. She saw him, smiled, and thought, _oh_. _Fuck._

When an officer directed him to where they were currently being held, he locked eyes with her and shook his head, as if in relief. Her hands got sweaty and her heartbeat picked up as he came closer, and she couldn't think of anything but _I'm in love with him_ on loop.

"Disorderly conduct," he drawled. "You're lucky the other party isn't pressing charges. What the hell did you do?"

Miraculously, she shot back, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Monty, what did she do?"

"Punched a guy a few times."

"Thanks, Monty."

"Thanks, Monty," she echoed, glaring at both Monty and Bellamy. "Are you going to bail us out?"

"I'm enjoying this, actually. Bars kind of suit you." He grinned at her, and because she was weak (and _in love_ , she added), she grinned back, ducking her head forward to lean against the bars in question.

"Get us out of here," she whined.

"All right, all right," he conceded and a moment later, they were being released. Bellamy stopped her before she stepped out of the cell. "Hold on." He fished his phone out of his pocket. "I need to remember this moment."

"Bellamy."

"Say _I had to get bailed out of jail by my best friend_."

She didn't say that, but she did stand for the picture after great – and exaggerated – protest. He made it his lockscreen. She didn't stop smiling.

"You know you'll have to tell me what happened later, right?"

"I know," she said, looping her arm through his as they followed Monty and a groggy Jasper out of the station. Just because she had just realized she was in love with him didn't mean she couldn't do the things she normally did with him. Besides, she hadn't exactly _processed_ the whole thing yet. "It's not a very interesting story."

"I really doubt that," he said dryly, dodging her elbow and laughing as they walked to his car. It was going to be a tight fit, but she was glad that she would obviously sit up front, rather than squished in the backseat.

She dropped her arm out of his when she saw the girl sitting in the passenger seat. Bellamy didn't seem to notice, or if he did, didn't say anything as he hurried to the window. After a second, the girl got out of the car and smiled at them.

Bellamy turned to them, a little sheepish. "This is Gina," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "She's uh — we were —"

Gina laughed and waved. "I'm Gina. It's nice to meet you guys. Monty and Jasper… Clarke?"

"What?" She felt dazed, and suddenly, a little sick to her stomach. "Sorry. Hi."

"It's fine. Bellamy said you get sick if you don't sit in the front?" Clarke shot an embarrassed look at him. Did he _have_ to tell her that?

"No, no, I'm okay, you should sit there, I'll be fine in the back, really," she said quickly, her laugh a little forced. She avoided Bellamy's eyes.

"Clarke, just sit up here," he said.

"I'm fine," she said, trying not to raise her voice. "I'm not going to make Gina sit in the back." And to illustrate her point, Clarke opened the door to the backseat and got in, almost furiously tugging her seatbelt on. Although they hadn't gone anywhere, she did feel nauseous and dizzy, but mostly embarrassed. It was embarrassing that she wanted to cry, that she was clearly overreacting, that she just wanted to pick a fight with Bellamy. It was embarrassing that she had just realized she was fucking _in love_ with Bellamy and he had come to _bail her out of jail_ with his _girlfriend_ ( _when_ did he get a girlfriend?) and that she was now sitting alone in the backseat of Bellamy's car, while everyone else was awkwardly loitering around outside. Most of all, she was embarrassed at how jealous she was, when she didn't have a right to be, since Bellamy was only her friend and he deserved to be happy too and she hadn't even known she loved him, was properly in love with him, until ten minutes ago.

It was quiet when the rest of them got in and she steadfastly looked out the window as everyone got settled in. Jasper was more awake now and he was smoothing over any awkward patches in the car. She felt Monty look over at her a few times, but didn't say anything, which she was grateful for.

Bellamy dropped off Gina first, then Jasper, and then Monty, leaving Clarke for last. She managed an almost sincere goodbye to Gina, before returning to her sulking as Bellamy walked her to her door, kissed her cheek, and came back. She refused to stare at them.

Five minutes passed before Bellamy said something. Because they were the only ones left, it was a lot harder to ignore him. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"

She knew she was being unreasonable, and honestly, probably a bitch right now, but nothing had gone right tonight and she just wanted to go home and sleep. And then she remembered that Bellamy had rushed to _bail her out of jail_ , even though he had clearly been on a date, and she felt the tension drop away. It wasn't fair to Bellamy that she was acting this way.

"I'm not feeling well," she mumbled. A minute later, Bellamy pulled over and looked back at her.

"Get up here."

She thought about arguing with him, but found that she didn't really want to. She unbuckled her seatbelt, got out of the car, sat in the front seat, and buckled her seatbelt again.

"I told you to sit up here in the first place," he admonished.

"And I wasn't going to be rude and kick Gina out when she was already there," she said, glaring at the dashboard.

"She didn't care about that."

"Well, I did!" She rubbed her eyes. "You should've just said you were on a date when I called you."

"I wasn't on a date."

"Whatever."

"Gina and I aren't dating. We were just —"

"You should've said you were getting laid then," she corrected. "Now I'm the girl who cockblocked you and I feel shitty about that!" Not entirely the truth, but she _did_ feel a little bad about it.

"I wasn't not going to come get you."

There was nothing she could say that didn't sound like she was being selfish, so she said nothing at all. When they got closer to her apartment, she finally turned to him. "I'm sorry."

"You can always count on me, Clarke." He looked resigned and disappointed that he had to say it.

"I know," she said. "You know I'd do the same for you."

"I know."

"I need to apologize to Gina."

"What?"

"I was really rude tonight. I owe her an apology."

"I — she works at Ark Station," he said.

"Okay." Then, "She seems really nice. And pretty." She swallowed the prick of jealousy when he nodded with a smile. "You should date her."

"We'll see," he said vaguely. She frowned, just as he pulled up to the curb. "Lunch tomorrow?"

"Yeah." She unbuckled her seatbelt and smiled. Bellamy looked even better framed by the soft glow of the streetlight. Quickly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He looked a little startled when she pulled back and she almost winced. With even faster speed, she got out of the car and ran around to head inside.

Bellamy's voice stopped her. "Did you really punch a guy?"

She turned around and held up three fingers. "A few times."

***

**may 2017.**

One ring.

"Can't sleep?"

"Can't sleep," she whispered, careful not to wake up Harper, who actually _could_ sleep. It wasn't for lack of trying that Clarke couldn't sleep. She had tried, had closed her eyes and even counted 45 sheep before she gave up, but all she could think about was the conference the next day and how she would have to present her paper for the first time. And every time she thought about it, she wanted to puke, which meant she couldn't fall asleep. That wasn't taking into account the _other_ reasons she couldn't fall asleep either, which all had to do with Bellamy.

"Stairwell?"

"On my way."

She got to the stairwell at the end of the hallway first and almost shrieked when Bellamy decided to scare her. "People are _sleeping_!"

"That was fun," he smirked, sitting down next to her. She put a little distance between them, but that did nothing to slow down her heart or to quell the nerves that erupted. "You'll be great tomorrow."

She looked up at him. "You knew?"

"Remember when I had to present at that big conference last year and I called you in a panic?"

She did; it had taken the better part of an hour to calm him down and even then, she was pretty sure he hadn't believed it. But he had been amazing, _and_ he had won the prize at the end, so she'd been right. It was one of the things she liked to bring back because it was nice to see him blush.

"I'm just scared I'll mess it up."

"You are so prepared it's not even funny."

"Maybe that's how I'll mess it up! By being overprepared!" She glumly rested her head on her knees and Bellamy chuckled, rubbing her back. That only made things worse because it felt so nice and she was _so_ in love with him and still hadn't figured out what to do about it yet, except maybe just pine away forever while he was amazing and supportive and _funny_.

"You're going to be great," he said soothingly, voice low and near her ear. She wrapped her arms around her knees a little tighter. "I can't believe you won't let me watch you."

"I have enough to worry about without trying to impress you," she said without thinking. "I mean —"

Bewildered, Bellamy said, "You don't have to impress me."

She wrinkled her nose against her knees. "You still can't come into the room."

"What about next time?"

" _If_ I don't fail miserably, I guess I'll allow it."

"Oh, you _guess_."

"Shut up." She was sitting upright again, still a few inches farther from Bellamy than she had to be (or liked to be), and he was still rubbing her back, almost absently.

Quietly, almost to herself, as she stared down at her shoes: "I talked to Gina the other day."

His hand slowed near the middle of her back. "I thought you apologized already."

"I did. We just ran into each other at the store and started talking."

"What'd you —" He cleared his throat. "What did you talk about?"

She didn't want to say it, but she had to answer him. Miserably, although she was a little impressed with herself with how well she hid it, she said, "I didn't know you guys went on a date a few weeks ago."

He froze.

Being in love with Bellamy Blake completely, completely sucked.

"It was just once."

"Yeah, but… you still did. And she's nice. And pretty. And you like her." Clarke kept her eyes on her shoes and the carpet underneath them, and if she was holding her breath, she wasn't aware of it until she heard him speak.

"She is."

She exhaled.

"Will you look at me?"

"I'm good here," she mumbled, feeling childish and stupid all at once.

"Are you… upset?" It was like he was testing out the sentence. "About Gina?"

She shook her head. At least that was true. Clarke wasn't upset about Gina; she really did think she could be friends with her eventually. She was upset about Gina _and Bellamy_ together.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" When she finally chanced a peek, she saw that Bellamy's eyes were pleading — and hopeful.

"I'm…" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "In love with you. Sorry."

"You're sorry?" On his part, his voice had dropped, but out of surprise.

"I don't want to complicate things between you and —"

"Clarke," he interrupted urgently. "It was just _once_. And we both knew it wasn't going anywhere."

"But you _li_ —"

" _Clarke_ ," (in exasperation), "I dropped everything because you told me you needed to be picked up from jail. Gina and I both knew then it wasn't going anywhere."

She blinked at him, and blinked again, and then, felt a smile curve up on her face. "Because you…"

"I love you," he said, like it was the simplest thing to say, as if it wasn't the best thing she heard in the past month.

Clarke surged forward, closing the gap between them with a long kiss that made even _her_ a little lightheaded. "I was so jealous," she admitted, softening it with another deep kiss.

"Everyone told me I was so obvious."

"I was so stupid."

They laughed into their next kiss and she found herself pulled into his arms. The stairwell was uncomfortable and a tight squeeze, but it was still worth it. Bellamy kissed the top of her head and sighed.

"We do have to sleep soon."

"Five more minutes."

It was twenty before they headed back to their rooms.

***

**july 2017.**

The gazebo was seemingly the only place on the property that no one wanted to occupy so it made sense that she claimed it as soon as she could get away from the party.

She clicked on Bellamy's name almost instinctually by now. He answered on the fourth ring.

"I hate you," she declared, stretching out on the bench.

"It's been two hours," he said, amused.

"One and a half hours too long. Engagement parties shouldn't last longer than half an hour." Especially her _mom's_ engagement party. They were on fairly good terms now, but even if she was best friends with her, Clarke knew that there was no way she would've enjoyed the fancy party that she was currently suffering through.

"Is that a rule?"

"It is. I googled it."

He laughed and she missed him. "I miss you," she said.

"I miss you too. Sorry I couldn't be there." He sounded genuinely regretful.

"You've been planning this trip with your sister for a month. I'm fine for one night."

"You do have alcohol at the ready."

"See? I'm perfect. How's the trip?"

"It's…" He struggled to find a word. "Getting better. O's talking to me more."

"I'm glad," she said, fervently wishing she could do something to ease his own estranged relationship with his sister. Although she was still wary about Octavia Blake, Bellamy had been looking forward to the trip for a long time and she hoped that nothing would go wrong.

"I'll be back next week."

"I know. I'm not saying I do, but I might have downloaded a countdown app just for this purpose."

"I really love you."

She could hear his smile. "Eh, I like you."

"Ouch."

Clarke was going to tease him about it more, say something about having to work his way back into her affections (like it wasn't the most unbelievable lie), but then someone was calling her name — her aunt, who was striding over towards the gazebo, her last place of refuge — and she groaned into her phone. "I'm being waved down," she informed Bellamy gravely. "If I don't check back in in a few hours, say something nice at my funeral."

"I can probably manage that," he said with a laugh. "Love you."

"Love you too. Call me later?"

"Of course."

**Author's Note:**

> Bellamy's dissertation is something about Filipino migrant laborers in the US and the intersection between race and masculinity.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [bestivals](http://bestivals.tumblr.com)!


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